The Saturday Night Stakeout

My hair looked absolutely tragic. I'd spent three hours trying to curl it for Maya's party, but somehow it ended up looking like I'd stuck my finger in an electrical socket. Mom walked past my bathroom doorway, did a double-take, and sighed.

"Honey, are you... okay?"

"I'm FINE," I snapped, which was a total lie because I was definitely not fine. I was spiraling.

The doorbell rang. I froze.

"That's Leo!" I whisper-shouted at myself. Leo García. The guy I'd been lowkey obsessed with since seventh grade, who'd somehow become my lab partner this semester and now actually texted me first sometimes. I grabbed my hoodie and bolted down the stairs, nearly tripping over the tangled cable behind the TV — the same cable I'd promised Dad I'd secure like three weeks ago.

Leo was standing on our porch, looking unfairly good in that way where someone clearly doesn't try but somehow just is. His hair was messy but, like, good messy. Not electrical socket messy.

"Ready?" he asked, and I noticed he was holding something. "My mom made me bring these." He held out a bottle of gummy vitamins. "She thinks I don't eat enough vegetables on game days."

I laughed. "You're literally running track and field, Leo. I think you're good."

"Yeah, well, you know how moms are." He shifted his weight. "So, Maya's party... you think everyone's gonna be there?"

"Pretty sure," I said, trying to sound casual while my stomach did that thing where it feels like you swallowed a handful of anxious butterflies. "Why?"

"No reason." But then he looked at me, actually looked at me, and said, "I was hoping it wouldn't be too crowded. I like talking to you better when it's not... you know. With everyone watching."

We started walking toward Maya's house. The spring air was crisp, and somewhere down the street, someone was blasting music that got louder with each step. I realized my hands were sweating, which was gross, and I was hyper-aware of every single thing about myself — my hair, my slightly-too-big hoodie, the way I was probably walking weird.

"Your hair looks nice, by the way," Leo said suddenly.

I stopped walking. "What?"

"Like, you did something different, right? It looks... I don't know. Softer?" He actually seemed kind of nervous saying it, which was impossible because Leo García didn't get nervous.

"Oh," I said. "Thanks. I tried curling it but then it got kind of messed up and—"

"No, it's good," he interrupted. "It looks like you."

We stood there for a second, and I had this moment where I suddenly remembered how last year, before we even really knew each other, I'd somehow ended up basically spy-ing on his Instagram at like 2 AM because I couldn't sleep and one thing led to another and suddenly I'd scrolled through three years of his life like a total creep. And now here he was, saying something that sounded suspiciously like he actually noticed me.

"We should probably..." He pointed toward Maya's house, where colorful lights were flashing through the windows.

"Yeah," I said. "But hey, Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for walking with me."

He smiled, and it was this small, genuine thing that made something in my chest feel bright and terrified all at once. "Of course. Besides, someone's gotta make sure you don't trip over any more cables."

I laughed, and we kept walking, and for the first time all night, I didn't think about my hair once.